


Dreaming With Monsters

by RussianWitch



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal, Blood Kink, M/M, Porn With Plot, Referenced - Freeform, Rimming, Some Plot, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:23:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9119518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: not beataed





	

**Author's Note:**

> not beataed

He had never slept well, every time he closed his eyes, the monsters came out swarming and suffocating him, attempting to drag him down to their level.

Will hadn't thought the solution would be to have one of them sleeping next to him. Hannibal sprawls across most of the bed, a predator deceptively at rest. Like Will isn't aware he could strike any minute. Greedy monster that he is, Hannibal doesn't tolerate any other threats to Will's sanity or integrity other than the ones he manufactures.

"Good morning." The monster calls, Will can hear a smile in his voice, hears Hannibal roll over, then there is a heavy weight against his back.

"Hannibal." He doesn't turn, keeps his eyes closed, waits to feel the long, talented fingers slipping under his t-shirt and across the mess of scars that is his belly, up to his chest to flick a nipple and check the bandages on his shoulder. The monster's laugh against the nape of his neck makes Will shiver, and arch into Hannibal's hands. 

He should be terrified, shouldn't even be there in the monster's bed. Hannibal's mouth works its way along Will's throat until the monster is nuzzling at Will's jaw. He can imagine Hannibal purring in pleasure, those sharp white teeth sinking into his throat. He moans and trembles, but reaches back tangling his fingers in Hannibal's hair tugging sharply until Hannibal growls and rolls him over, crouching over Will with a feral grin.

"Do you want to play, Will?" The monster asks casually, and a dark, twisted part of Will wants to scream 'yes'. Part of him always wants to run so Hannibal will have to chase him, catch him, devour...

"I—don't know." He doesn't have to explain, much to his relief, the monster knows.

They can walk through each other's minds effortlessly these days, the last of the barriers having shattered on the way down. He still isn't sure how they lived—everything beyond the cliff is muddled: red, black and painful. Will remembers fragments, medical care, and threats, long days on an uncomfortable mattress in dark, stale space. There are memories or maybe fantasies of lying on a dark beach licking the drying blood off of each other's faces. He doesn't want to think about it much, except...

"Then maybe I shall be able to persuade you, hmm?" Hannibal murmurs against his shoulder, butting his head against Will's arm until he's on his belly with Hannibal half on his back warm and aroused.

"You are thinking about the blood." Will accuses, or maybe not, he remembers the glow of it as well.

"So are you," Hannibal shrugs against his back, scraping his teeth along Will's spine, "would you like to see it again?"

"I don't know," Will lies, Hannibal doesn't call him on it. He sucks bruises in the small of Will's back right above the tan line left by shorts Will wears on the beach. The sun is good for the wounds marring Will's skin, still angry red and achy at the most inconvenient times. He rises spreading his knees, sticking his ass in Hannibal's face to distract him from the conversation. Hannibal knows but doesn't call him on it. He licks along the crack of Will's ass instead, until Will is shaking as Hannibal's tongue circles Will's hole.

The sheets are crisp in Will's sweaty grasp, sunspots dance on the wall across from the bed. Will can feel the monster's pleasure, Hannibal loves the unfettered access he has to Will these days, and still loves the thought of corrupting Will further of recreating Will in his image. "I prefer you as you are," Hannibal mentions, pushing a slick finger into Will's body.

"For the moment," Will concedes slurring the words in pleasure, "until you grow bored with the novelty of having me."

"That is not possible. I have always said you are a treasure and I value you, just the way you are." Two fingers now, spreading Will open carefully, turning into three. He knows Hannibal can keep teasing him for ages until the sunspots disappear and the moon comes out, he's done it before while Will was still weak and unable to do anything but curse him out.

"It's a shame one cannot use blood for lube," the monster muses, crawling up Will's back to settle heavily on top of him warm skin and itchy chest hair against Will's shoulder blades, "it congeals far too quickly and becomes sticky." He sucks on the lobe of Will's ear, lightly tugging on the flesh with his teeth.

"You would know that," Will wants to turn around and see the smug smile on Hannibal's face. Hannibal's dick settles between his ass cheeks, thick and slick already. "I loved seeing you burn with righteous anger. Did you get hard Will? The adrenalin gave you strength, did it give you pleasure as well?"

He slides between Will's thighs, and back up again: they have done it before when Will was still too injured to move, but already so very willing.

Will remembers kisses when he was still in pain and barely moving, kisses that felt better than some of the sex Will has had over the years, then Hannibal started using his hands and his mouth—it wasn't like Will hadn't known what Hannibal was doing: forging a physical connection, manipulating Will without saying a word and Will had let him: had reached for him, in fact, needing the touch, the connection almost as much as he needed his next painkiller, almost as much as he'd needed to know Hannibal would be there every time he woke up.

"Did you actually lick blood off my face?" Will wonders, forcing himself to let go of the sheets and reach back to anchor a hand in Hannibal's hair. With most of Hannibal's weight on him, Will has to work for every breath. 

"You remember?" Hannibal noses along the back of Will's neck, nipping at his spine.

"I thought I dreamed it." He shrugs as best he can, jerking lightly on Hannibal's hair in reproach.

"You taste good, Will." The monster confides, sinking his teeth in just a little deeper than usual. Hannibal rises off of him, manhandles Will onto his back, looming over him with a lustful grin, "I've wished to taste you for a long time now." Will has never quite liked kissing: too messy and sloppy, too intimate until Hannibal taught him better until kisses were all he could have for a while. He licks into the monster's mouth raising his legs to lock them around Hannibal's waist.

Will caresses the powerful body, his fingers dancing over the slick burn scars and the bloom of scar tissue left behind by Dolarhyde's bullet on Hannibal's skin, still tender to the touch, bright pink in the sunlight. Hannibal makes an indistinct sound that may be encouragement, or protest, biting down on Will's bottom lip and pulling gently, their dicks sliding together fanning the flames of their arousal. "Tell me what I'm dreaming, Hannibal." Will orders, catching slick flesh in his hand and guiding it to his ass. When Hannibal slides into him, Will closes his eyes and lets himself sink into _them._

"You dream of freedom, freedom from fear, from guilt, from narrow-minded morals that have constricted you all your life. You dream of freedom from judgment—," Hannibal's words trail off, robbed of breath as Will tightens his body around him, "you dream of bathing in blood, of standing in the moonlight, feeling it run down your body, the metallic taste of it in your mouth rich as silk, engaging your senses."

"Would you let me come to your table like that?" Will asks, the thought of coming to Hannibal that way, naked but for the blood drying on his skin while Hannibal is impeccably dressed. The monster growls, his hips stuttering, liking the thought too, his hands wrap around Will's thighs pushing them wide as he rises to his knees. Will gasps and curses, digging his nails into Hannibal's back with every thrust.

Looking up into maroon eyes, Will doesn't need the words, he can see himself trailing blood as he circles the table settling at Hannibal's side his feet sticking to the parquet, his back sticking to the back of the chair. He imagines Hannibal laying him out on the table among the dishes, pouring wine almost the same color as the blood onto his chest, standing between Will's spread legs prim and proper until the moment the predator let's go of his iron self-control and pounces.

Hannibal licks a wide stripe across Will's chest, their eyes locked, pushing into Will's hand when he cups Hannibal's cheek leaving a sticky smear.

"Will!" Hannibal growls, practically bending him in half, his face twisted with hunger or lust, either way, Will welcomes it. He's gotten used to Hannibal's hunger for his body, a hunger that's going to destroy him eventually. He shoves a hand between their bodies, grabs his dick and pulls in rhythm with Hannibal's thrusts.

"Let me!" Hannibal snaps, pushing Will's hand away.

He pushes strands of sweat-matted hair out of Hannibal's face, strokes the sharp cheekbones and tries not to suffocate from the intensity of Hannibal's affection. Hannibal's hand twists and squeezes drawing pleasure from Will's body ruthlessly until he can no longer string any thoughts together until physical pleasure eclipses everything else and for a brief moment, Will is free.


End file.
